


the only hope for me is you

by JaguarCello



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Howling Commandoes, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sub Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarCello/pseuds/JaguarCello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is literally a poster boy these days. Bucky always had a bit of a thing for pin-ups, and neither of them were ever that keen on the chain of command.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only hope for me is you

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have no excuse for this apart from I've met a lovely boy called Lewis so

“So,” said Bucky, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye. “You’re taller,” and splashed his face with water. Steve, standing next to him at the sinks, paused.

“The serum did this, you know that,” he said, washing his hands. Even his hands had got bigger, Bucky noticed, and Steve moved with an unconscious grace that had never been present before. No longer the awkward kid who had got beat up too many times to walk with much fluidity, he was lean and lithe and powerful.

“What else has it changed?” Bucky asked, and he looked at the strength in Steve’s arms, the sharpness of his jawline, even the neatness of his hair. “I mean, you’re still the same punk you always were, right?”

Steve laughed at that. “They asked me, once I had woken up, about my sexual preferences, my favourite foods, my political beliefs. I had to lie, didn’t I? I’m literally their poster boy. But you know, as long as they believe I just like girls and I agree that abortion should be illegal – “

“You’re their poster boy,” Bucky said, slowly, and then he grinned suddenly. “Oh, I’ve seen the newsreels. I think I could sing that awful fucking song from memory by now,” and then he looked away from Steve, down to the grimy floor. “You could change things. Now that you’re – “ and he gestured helplessly at Steve’s body – “you could _force_ them to accept us – “

Steve reached out to curl his fingers around Bucky’s. “I don’t have any powers apart from smiling on a goddamned poster,” he muttered, and took a deep breath. It was free from the rattle that he used to have – the asthma must have gone, Bucky supposed.

“Alright,” he said, and nodded. “I was thinking, since your asthma has gone, will your endurance have improved?” and he splayed the fingers of his free hand across Steve’s thigh. Steve froze, and Bucky remembered that this new body had never been touched by him.

“You and Peggy – “ he began, but Steve interrupted him with a kiss hard enough to scorch his lips.

Bucky took a step backwards, so that his back was pressed against the sink, and kissed him back as if he had not been tortured, as if Steve were not a superhuman, as they used to kiss back in Brooklyn in the back-streets behind the gay bars. Steve’s hands found their way to his hair, and pulled him closer again, before moving them both backwards so that their hips ground against each other. Bucky swore, and Steve moved to bite on the junction between his neck and his shoulders. Bucky tried and failed to hide a moan.

“You’re stronger,” he said in a half-whisper, voice rough with want. “Christ, _Steve_ , do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you as if it wouldn’t break you?”

 Steve paused to press a fierce kiss to his lips. “Since – maybe since that first alleyway, when I had punched a guy for calling you names, and then I somehow managed to land a punch on his head and he went down like a tonne of bricks,” and he laughed. “And then his pals showed up and you had to step in,” and he was as hard as Bucky was, pressed together as if it would kill them to be apart. “And the way you looked at me –“ Steve shifted his hips, swearing under his breath. “Yes, please, _please_ , I’ve thought of nothing else since. In all my dreams and all my filthy fantasies you fuck me like I’m yours – “

Bucky looked towards the door. “We’ll have to go somewhere else. A restroom in a military base is suicidal – “

“Don’t care,” Steve said, breathless. “Can I touch you? Could I – “

Bucky kissed him, and stepped back. “Steve, we can’t do this here. No matter how long I’ve wanted to fuck you hard, to bury myself inside you, to fuck you into every mattress we’ve shared – “

Steve groaned, deep and animalistic. “I need you,” he said, urgently, stepping forwards and reaching out to unbutton Bucky’s trousers. “The uniform looks good on you by the way, I think I forgot to mention that,” he said, and knelt at Bucky’s feet.

“You’re going to ruin your uniform,” said Bucky, and he licked his lips. “I’m going to ruin you. Do you like the sound of that?” he asked, as matter-of-factly as if he were talking about the weather. Steve dug his thumbs into the hollows of Bucky’s hips and looked up at him, and his smirk was the same as it always used to be.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Did I tell you that you could talk?” he said, and Steve shifted his hips again, half-grinding against the floor, and took Bucky in his mouth. Bucky bit his lip, and tangled one hand in Steve’s hair; the other hand found its way to Steve’s dogtags around his neck, and he twisted his fingers in the chain.

“You’ve got better at that,” Bucky said presently, arching his hips and tilting his head back until it hit the mirror on the wall. “You’ve been busy whilst you were out feeding the propaganda machine, haven’t you?” he asked, a little breathless. His fingers twisted a little more around the dogtags, and Steve flicked his tongue across the underside of his cock. Bucky hissed under his breath, and Steve dug his thumbs into his hips a little harder.

“Who did you suck off then,” Bucky asked, pulling slightly on Steve’s hair. “Who fucked you? Was he good? Did he give you what you need?” and he swore and pulled away, panting. “Christ, you’re good at that, you’re desperate for it – “

Steve looked up at him through eyes dark with lust. “A guy I met in some dive bar. He looked like you and he even sounded a little like you, a bit of a cocky idiot. But it wasn’t – it wasn’t what I had imagined. He didn’t exactly take care of me, you know?”

Bucky tilted Steve’s chin upwards, and drew him up to standing again. “You’re back with me now, okay? And hey, cocky idiot? I’m going to have to take that as a compliment, punk,” and he kissed Steve with an almost unbearable lightness.

“We need to go somewhere more private,” he said, and Steve looked at him and saw that his hair was a mess, his cheeks red, and his formerly immaculate uniform had been shoved and pulled out of place. “I’ll fuck you there,” he added, and Steve felt desire spike through him.

“I still have a private room, you know. Captain America perks,” he said hopefully, and Bucky grinned, and then seemed to remember he was in control.

“Let’s go,” he said, and kissed Steve gently – too gently – before walking out the door. To his dying day, Steve would deny that he ran after him, but run he did.

His room was small and not quite regulation neatness, and he knew just looking at it that the bed would creak, but the room was tucked out of the way of anyone else. This was, he had been informed by the blushing nurse with whom he had half-heartedly flirted, to stop his screaming disturbing anyone when he dreamed of the pain from the serum. He said as much to Bucky, and Bucky pulled him closer with his hands firmly scrunched up in his lapels.

“You touched yourself in here, didn’t you?” Bucky asked, and with one hand began to unbutton Steve’s shirt. “What did you think about?” he added, voice low.

“I thought about you. I thought about that little funny sigh you make when you come, and how embarrassed you used to get when I pointed it out. I think – a lot – about how you smile at me when I’m touching you, or how wide your pupils get when I touch myself in front of you – “

Bucky kissed him, and gave up on the buttons, turning his attention instead to Steve’s trousers. “Take your boots and shirt off,” he said.

“Bossing me around, Sergeant?” Steve said, grinning, but bent to unlace his boots. His dogtags slipped forwards until they dangled above his knees, and as soon as he had taken off his boots, Bucky grabbed at them to pull him upwards again.

“Shirt,” he ordered, and Steve obeyed, and gasped as Bucky slipped a hand inside his trousers. “You’re so hard,” Bucky said, and smiled as if he couldn’t help himself. “Hard for me, aren’t you?”

Steve swallowed. “I’m only hard for you,” he said, and ground against the heel of Bucky’s hand. “Please, please,” he said, as Bucky began to stroke him gently, slowly. “I need you, I _need_ you inside me – “

“I know how to take care of you,” Bucky said. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? You and me, against the world, ‘til the end of the line. You’re mine and I’m yours – “

“You’ve gone soppy,” Steve said, and tugged his trousers off. “I need you Buck, please?”

Bucky smiled at him, and leaned forwards to kiss him again. “You’re very pretty when you beg. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you? Desperate for me to tease you until you’re rutting against my thigh like an animal – “

Steve whined, and Bucky nodded towards the bed. With another whine, Steve lay down on his back, looking up at Bucky. “Would you really tease me?” he asked, and Bucky grinned at that.

“I’m going to kiss every inch of your perfect, serum-improved body. Until you’re begging, until you’re pleading to touch yourself, to fuck yourself on your own fingers – “ and he straddled Steve, and pulled his shirt over his head.

Bucky bent forwards to drag his tongue across Steve’s nipple, pausing at each gasp from Steve, and then moved lower, kissing his impressively toned stomach, tracing his tongue across his ribs, and pressed a quick kiss to the hollow between Steve’s groin and his thigh. Steve bit his lip, but too slowly to prevent himself from whimpering. “Please,” he said, and one hand came up to touch himself.

“Did I say you could do that?” Bucky asked, and Steve shook his head, and returned his hand to where it had been, above his head. “If you keep doing that,” Bucky warned, “I’ll have to tie your hands together,” and Steve swallowed and nodded. “Turn over,” he said, and Steve did so, eagerly and silently. He was breathing almost as heavily as Bucky was now, and a slow flush had begun to spread down his chest.

“I like – taking orders from you,” Steve said, shifting his hips into the bed before sliding back onto his knees; Bucky dug his nails into Steve’s sculpted hips.

“You’re not so keen on orders from up high though, are you? Not the perfect soldier they’d all have us believe – “ and Bucky grabbed the pot of Vaseline on the nightstand. “Been touching yourself a lot, then?” he asked, and crooked a finger round the lip of the lid, and kissed a trail down Steve’s back.

“This might feel different to how you’re used to it,” he warned, head full of images of Steve biting his lip as Bucky flexed his fingers inside him, of Steve swearing into the juncture of his arm and shoulder to stop from crying out – and then he flexed his fingers and Steve jolted and bucked and _hissed_ ; Bucky stopped for a second.

“Keep _going_ ,” Steve said, and arched his hips willingly – eagerly – to let Bucky’s fingers dip and dance.

Bucky pressed another kiss, harsh and urgent, to Steve’s spine, and changed the angle of his fingers. Steve swore, a stream of filthiness which had shocked Bucky, the first time Steve had let him do this. “Now,” Steve said through clenched teeth, hips arching with each of his furious breaths, and Bucky slid inside him like they were made for this, like they had always been destined to be skin-to-skin in a freezing barracks somewhere in Europe when the world was ending.

They had front-stage seats to the show, Bucky vaguely remembered, but rifles and marching and barroom brawling was a distant memory now. He moaned – too loudly for the small space, but Steve answered him in a clipped groan and began to shift his hips. He swore; they were both swearing now.

“Fuck me – as hard as you want,” Steve said, and he felt so good, so tight, that Bucky had to still for a second to stop himself coming at his words. “As deep as you want – all your fucking fantasies, when you touched yourself when you thought I couldn’t hear you trying not to groan my name – every dream you have had about this. That hard, that fast. I _need_ this,” he went on, boneless, and then shifted his hips slightly.

Bucky swore, and moved faster, rougher, and he got the angle perfect and Steve’s entire body started to shake. “Please _please_ ,” he muttered, voice loose and desperate.

“Please what, love?” Bucky said, the endearment falling off his tongue like honey, and he didn’t have time to think about what it meant because Steve had arched his back as Bucky reached around to touch him, hands as fervent as if he were praying, and he would worship Steve, really he would, and he had lost his rhythm in his desperation and Steve half-howled his name and came all over his hand, and at last – _at last_ – Bucky came and Steve was all he saw and all he could comprehend outside of the unbearable pleasure that had taken over his core.

He saw white circles, black circles, and then Steve, kissing him gently. “You always give me what I need, Buck,” he said, as gentle as his kisses, neck angry red from Bucky’s teeth and hips which would have bruises tomorrow, grasping hands and digging thumbprints.

Bucky thought – for a split second – of an excellent witty remark, but Steve kissed him and pressed his lips into the hollows of his collarbones, and so he pulled the blanket over them both and slept, sticky and stained.

The morning came early, with teasing kisses and wicked fingers and too-loud laughter, and Bucky realised he had what he had been looking for with every fight and every fuck he ever had.

He took Steve’s calloused hand in his. He did not let go.  


End file.
